Hostage Situation
by polrobin
Summary: A bank heist goes terribly wrong with Mulder caught in the middle. I *never* write character death, so stick with me through the end. Trust me. Honest.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Hostage Situation.

Author:Sherry Davis and Setmedic.

E-Mail: and Category: SRA MSR ScullyAngst STORY Rating: R (violence, language)

Spoilers: I don't think there are any, but US6 to be safe.

Archive: Gossamer. All other archivists should contact us.

Summary: A bank heist goes terribly wrong.

Feedback: You Betcha.

Author's Notes: Many thanks go to Polly, Dawson, Julie, Karen and Tamara for their continued support and suggestions. This story would have crashed and burned without you guys.

Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder and any other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and FOX studios. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors.

NOTE: I've added this story to nearly ten years after it was first written. I was originally a beta-reader on this story for the inestimable SherryDavis. Sherry asked me if she could put my name on the piece as co-author, citing the amount of rewriting and work I put into it. The core plot was all hers, I made some of the grammar prettier and flow a bit easier. You'll find a few "British-isms" throughout – that's because Sherry is from across the pond. I don't know if she still writes fanfic any more, but if she does, give her the credit she's due.


	2. Chapter 2

Mobile Command Center

FBI Hostage Rescue Team East

Mercantile Credit Bank

Gateway Plaza Complex

Loudoun County, Virginia

4:45 PM

"_Shit!"_

The sudden sound of the spotter's two-way radio link shattered the silence of the mobile command center.

"_He's gonna waste him... I repeat... Target is preparing to waste the hostage."_

"Do you have a clear shot?" The HRT SAC enquired, already knowing the likely outcome of that answer.

"_Negative, boss. The bastard is using one of the other hostages as a shield. He's put the female teller in just the right position to negate any kind of kill shot."_

There was a brief hesitation before the commentary continued, _"He knows what he's doing. He's been down this road before." _

There was a tone of begrudging admiration in the spotter's voice. _"The target is forcing the hostage to his knees. Hostage has his hands cuffed behind his back. He's pretty beaten up... contusions and a _lot_ of blood covering his face. Jesus... look's like the poor SOB has been pistol-whipped pretty bad..." _

The spotter's words trailed off for a moment and everyone in the small command center waited anxiously. There was a slight crackle of static and then his words were heard once more, "I'm pretty sure it's him though."

The SAC's eyes lifted from his scrutiny of the monitors, to glance at the small auburn haired woman who stood opposite. Her cool, no nonsense gaze locked with his across the top of the desk, refusing to waver. Those penetrating blue eyes were asking him a question, a question she had vocalised on more than one occasion since this thing had started over four hours ago.

"_Let me go in with them?"_

"_NO."_

"_Damnit...I'm trained for this. Let me go in…let me be a part of the team that takes this asshole out."_

"_NO."_

"_It's my partner in there."_

"_And that's the very reason I can't let you go inside."_

Dana Scully looked away from the intimidating glare of the Hostage Rescue Team's CO and bit down upon her lip in nervous agitation. Hands, eager to be doing something more constructive than merely waiting around, clenched and unclenched at her side. Her gaze slid over the small monitors on the desk, trying to quell the trepidation rising within her, but it only served to heighten her own feelings of powerlessness.

SAC Sinclair was right. He couldn't let her go inside with the other members of the assault team. As Mulder's partner, the book clearly stated that she was too personally involved to perform objectively. Her instinctual need to put her partner first could cloud her judgement, thus rendering her useless to the other team members who would be relying upon her to back them up. To include her in the takedown would only serve to dull the finely honed edge that the assault team needed to do their job.

She knew that. She understood that.

She hated it, but she had to accept it.

_So _why_ is it so goddamn hard to accept?_ She thought angrily to herself. _Why is it so difficult to acknowledge that this is one team I'm not allowed to play on?_

Because it was Mulder in there.

If it had been any other agent it would have been different. Even if it had been Skinner held inside that building, she knew that she would have been able to accept the role that had been cast for her.

But not when it was Mulder.

Not when it was the one man that she had never _failed_ to back up for six long years. No matter how impossible the task, she had _always_ managed to get him out alive. No matter how dark and dangerous the situation, she had steadfastly refused to leave his side. The more he got himself entwined in the vines of lies and mistrust, the more she had acted as his personal machete, slicing through the fronds of danger and deceit to reclaim him.

Sometimes just in the nick of time.

They had stood back to back fighting all comers through Hell and high water, over and over again. It had become second nature to her to want, to _need_, to be the one that always brokered his release. It felt alien to her to just stand by and watch others ready themselves to go in and do battle for him.

She was his paladin.

His champion.

His knight in shining armour. Ready at a moment's notice to wage war and launch her own brand of wrath upon all those that dared to threaten him. Now she had to relinquish that right to a group of strangers dressed in dark Kevlar-protected clothing and masks. She had been reduced to sweating it out alongside the relatives and friends of those held hostage inside the bank. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one she didn't like. It gave her too much time to think.

Too much time to ponder the possibilities.

_Why didn't I go in with him?_ She demanded of herself, _Was it really because he had insisted that I stay in the car?_

Or was it because she had wanted to take a brief respite from challenging his latest, outlandish theory concerning the case they'd been working? A theory, she reminded herself, that had driven her up the wall to the point where they'd been having a heated debate in the car over its credibility.

Just when she'd reached a point where she wanted to lean across the seat and throttle him, he had pulled the car over to the curb and told her he had an urgent errand to run. That he needed to urgently deposit his last paycheck.

Jesus...

What had suddenly made him decide to deposit a check that must have sat in his pocket for two weeks! Why now in the middle of the damn workday? Since when had he become so organised?

Or had her irritability over the case become so noticeable that he had decided a time-out was in order? Whatever it was, he had gotten out of the car and told her he wouldn't be too long. She had nodded absently in response and he had quietly closed the door.

That had been over four hours ago.

To the petite redhead it felt a whole lot longer. More like a whole lifetime had elapsed since she had last seen him. Since she'd seen that long, lanky frame saunter casually into the bank's foyer.

They could have been back at the office now, poring over old casefiles. Arguing over the scientific evidence that she had uncovered that would have blown his theory clean out of the water. He would have been safe, not held hostage in a Virginia bank at the mercy of some whacked-out gunman.

She sighed again and found that she had been unconsciously wringing her hands. Annoyed at her lack of control, she shoved them inside her trenchcoat pockets.

Negotiation had turned out to be a fruitless waste of time. They had spent over an hour trying to strike a deal with a man who couldn't be reasoned with. The only thing they had accomplished was to irritate the bastard even more, to the point where he had viciously yanked the phone connection from the wall. Seconds later a burst of gunfire had been heard inside the old building.

A moment of terror had invaded Dana Scully's body as she'd wondered what those gunshots signified. Then one of the monitors had picked up the bank's door being opened. Another hostage dragged out the bloodied body of one of the security guards. Fearful for his own safety, he'd dumped the bullet riddled body unceremoniously on the sidewalk before hurrying back inside the building. The message was clear. The time for negotiation had long since passed.

She didn't need to be a top-notch profiler to see that things were going to hell in a handbasket. This maniac had a couple of highly wired accomplices and enough hardware to start a second Iwo Jima. He had already clearly telegraphed his intentions to execute hostages if he didn't get what he wanted. This madman had the capacity and the cold-blooded willingness to totally disregard the bureau and their NO DEAL policy.

_It's the rules, Dana._ she tried to tell herself, then shook her head in disgust, _Fuck rules... I want him out alive, not in a bodybag._

The cellphone in her pocket chirruped into life, breaking her from those macabre thoughts. She stuck a hand into the inside pocket of her trenchcoat and extracted it, hitting the send button and putting it to her ear.

"Scully..."

"Scully, who?" The hard edged voice queried, his tone a little exasperated as the caller realised he was speaking to a woman.

Bristling at the undisguised snub, she was about to put the chauvinistic jackass back in his place when a thought struck her.

_Everyone who uses this number already knows who I am. It's a government issued cell, never used for anything other than business purposes... So who the hell is this asshole?_

The answer followed hot on the tail of the question. The gunman from the bank. But if that were true...

"This is Agent Scully of the FBI," she replied in her best authoritative voice, "and I wish to know with whom I'm speaking."

She looked up briefly to pinpoint Sinclair's position in the command center. He was speaking to a group of men on the other side of the small van, oblivious to her conversation.

"Take a look at the monitor and all will be revealed." The hard edged voice instructed, "I'm guessing you've got a shit load of fibre optic images being pumped into that tin can you're sitting in."

The unknown man's assumption had been correct. He seemed to know as much about the banking community's practices as he did the assault team's. The bank was a regional branch of a major banking corporation, and as such its security systems were linked to a central location. About an hour into the crisis the bank's security people had shown up and offered the FBI access to their Fibre Optic Network. This in turn had given the bureau's technicians the much needed surveillance hardware to view inside the bank.

"To whom am I speaking?" she asked again, waving her hand at Sinclair to get his attention.

"A concerned citizen." Came back the sarcastic reply. "Listen bitch, I ain't got time to play any more fucking games. Look at the monitor!"

Scully slowly moved around the desk containing the bank of monitors and began studying them. Six black and white screens showed various areas inside and outside the bank. None showed where the hostages were being kept. A smart move on the part of the criminals. The fourth monitor caught her eye and she inhaled sharply. One of the gunmen was holding Mulder's ID up against the lens of the security camera. His bureau issue photo ID looked stark and grainy in the black and white tones coming from the screen. It blurred into hues of dark and light.

It shouldn't have come as that much of a surprise, the SOB was using Mulder's cell to call her after all, but Scully's stomach still flipped over at the implications of this new set of events. She was certain that at that moment her own complexion must have mirrored that of the pasty looking image on the screen.

They knew...

Oh God...they _knew_...

"What is it?" The SAC asked, alerted by her sharp intake of breath.

"Mulder's ID." She slapped a hand over the mouthpiece of the cellphone, "Now they know he's Bureau. They'll think they have a bona fide hostage. One that can get them out of there."

"We don't do deals." The SAC replied emphatically.

The muscles inside her stomach tightened painfully as the realisation was driven home. No matter what happened next, the bureau _would_ not, _could_ not back down. Even if it meant sacrificing her partner's life, they couldn't go against federal policy.

The look in her eyes must have alerted Sinclair to her present state of emotional turmoil. He gently laid a hand upon her forearm, breaking her from her thoughts.

"We all knew the risks of this when we signed up. Your partner knows the rules as well as you and me. Any one of us could be used as a bargaining chip. The bureau doesn't allow that to happen." He stared into her eyes sorrowfully, "Period."

_I can't let him die. I can't just stand by and watch him die._

"I'm gonna try and stall him." A breathy sigh broke from her lips. "Get your people ready, this could get real ugly real fast."

The SAC nodded quickly, striding off toward the entrance of the van, giving orders to all those who would listen. Scully watched him move away, and tried to brace herself for what was going to come next. Slowly she moved her hand away from the mouthpiece of the cellphone.

"Let me speak to my partner." Her voice was cool and calm, refusing to betray the fear that coursed through her body, "I want proof that he's still alive."

"He's alive." The voice replied coldly, "and that's all you need to know for now." She closed her eyes as she realised that the gunman wasn't going to give in to her request. He knew all the moves and counter-moves, could play the waiting game as well as those around her. He was no more likely to let her speak with Mulder than the assault team were going to let the robbers out of the bank.

It was a standoff. All she could do was stay focused, keeping the gunman talking and therefore distracted long enough to give the assault team a chance to approach and storm the building.

To keep intact the element of surprise. "What do you want?" she asked, trying to keep to a script she barely knew, relying upon instinct and a vague memory of a class during her days at the academy to keep it together.

"What price do you put upon your partner's life, Agent Scully?"

The question took her a little by surprise, wondering why the gunman had suddenly made it into something personal, but she continued to play it by the book.

"Look, can I put this on the speakerphone? I haven't the authority to make deals. You must know that there are others here that outrank me, I'll have to defer any demands you have through them."

"Go ahead. Makes no difference to me as long as I get what I want."

There was a brief silence as Scully looked around the command center for the speakerphone. One of the technicians pointed to a small plastic box that looked like a cellphone charger. She nodded and slipped the cell into the plastic cradle.

"You still haven't answered my question." The voice finally said, "What price do _you_ put upon your partner's life?"

_Personally, I'd pay whatever you bastards want._ She thought to herself, _Professionally both Mulder and I know our lives aren't worth a cent._

"Like I said... what do you want?" she reiterated and wondered how she managed to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"What I've wanted all along. Safe passage out of here. A chopper waiting at the nearest airport."

"And Mulder?" Her words were soft and this time she noticed the tremulous cadence in her voice.

"Doesn't die within the next few minutes." The hard voice replied, "So what's it gonna be? You prepared to make a deal for Elliot Ness here?"

She looked around her quickly and met the eyes of SAC Sinclair staring intently back at her. His head was forcefully shaking back and forth... back and forth.

_No deal. There's no way in hell we're gonna let them out of that building._ His eyes told her. _You know the policy Agent Scully. Each agent knows the risks of being taken hostage._

She closed her eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath.

"It's not that simple... I can't just..." Her words were cut off before she could finish.

"It's that fucking simple lady. You _do_ what I say or I'll blow your fucking partner's brains all over this bank!"

There was silence in the room as both parties regained their equilibrium. "Aw shit! I don't know why I decided to call you motherfuckers anyway." There was another short pause before. "Say bye to your partner, lady..."

"No!" Scully yelled at the phone, her hands slapping down on the console next to it, "Wait! Wait! Please..." Her eyes lingered over the small cellphone as it nestled inside its cold, impersonal casing, "Just give me a few minutes...just...just don't hurt him."

She snapped the switch next to the phone off and ran a shaky hand through her auburn hair.

_Christ... what are you doing, Dana? You're not bloody trained for this._

"There can be no deviation from policy, Agent Scully." Sinclair's somber words floated toward her, "You _cannot_ deal with this man."

Scully spun around and pinned the assault team's Commanding Officer with her most withering look, "You tell him that!" She spat at him, pointing at the phone. "_You _tell him that there's no deal. _You_ sign my partner's death warrant!"

"You know the rules as well as I do. As well as Agent Mulder does. There can be no ground given."

"Fuck you!" Scully roared. "You're not the one being asked to serve up your partner on a plate. Don't presume to stand there and lecture me on points of protocol you son-of-a-bitch."

"Agent Scully, you're out of line." Sinclair countered, anger now lacing his words.

"Do you understand what you're asking me to do?" The second after I tell that bastard that there's not going to be a deal, Mulder's _dead_."

"Your partner isn't the only hostage we have to consider, Agent Scully. My team's waiting on my signal to go in. Once that signal is given they'll blow the doors and proceed to take out the targets."

"But Mulder will still be dead!" she replied anxiously, "Your team won't get there quick enough to prevent that maniac from killing him. For God's sake he's already on his knees with a fucking gun pointed at his head."

"Casualties of war." Sinclair replied and Scully had to restrain the impulse to punch him. She was already in enough trouble for speaking to him with blatant disrespect as it was. Her sharp fingernails dug into the fleshy skin of her palms as she fought with the rising tide of anger that threatened to engulf her.

_Don't let me be the one to condemn him._ her eyes pleaded with the SAC, _You can't ask that of me. You can't ask me to be the one to let him die._

Sinclair held her gaze for a moment longer before brushing past her, heading for the console and the phone upon it. Scully closed her eyes and bowed her head in defeat. _Forgive me Mulder. I tried. As God's my witness...I tried._

The snap of the switch being activated jolted her body, but she refused to turn around. She wanted to run away, to silently slip out of the command center. She didn't want to hear the words that were going to be uttered in the next few seconds. She didn't want to have the weight of those words forever imprinted upon her mind.

Knowing that the next two words out of Sinclair's lips were going to severe her link with Mulder forever. That their six year partnership was finally going to end, for him terrifyingly in a Virginia bank and for her in a crowded, but no less terrifying, command center. Apart from each other.

Alone.

Surrounded by other members of the human race, but so totally, utterly alone.

"No deal." Sinclair's rough voice filled the room and Scully felt the tension inside the van increase tenfold. An anguished sob rose from deep inside her chest to be quelled by the tightness of her lips as she refused to open them and let it out.

"What?!" the voice asked, not believing the words he had heard. Not understanding that the VIP he thought he had was nothing more than a mere pawn.

"I said no deal." Sinclair restated, "The bureau doesn't do deals with terrorists or criminals." He cleared his throat and Scully wondered if perhaps this was just as hard for him, "Agent Mulder's life will not be bargained for."

The ground beneath her lurched suddenly and she threw out an unsteady hand to grip the nearest desk. Its solidity was comforting, helping her to regain her faltering balance. Unfortunately her reeling emotions couldn't be appeased so easily.

"Do you think I'm fucking kidding?!" the voice screamed through the speakerphone "Do you think I'm fucking bluffing when I say that I'll blow his goddamn brains all over this fucking room?"

"No." Sinclair said, his voice totally devoid of emotion once again, "I'm just stating the bureau's policy."

"Is Agent Scully there?" the voice asked, "Where is she?"

"Agent Scully has been relieved from further negotiation in this matter. You are now to deal directly with me."

"You ran roughshod over her, huh?" The voice responded sarcastically, "Well if she's still there I think she'd probably like to hear this."

There was the sound of something rustling on the line and a muffled "No" could be heard in the distance. Scully turned slowly around as she picked out her partner's definitive timbre in that one word.

_Oh God, they're going to kill him._

She felt her eyes prickling with unshed tears. Her throat closing around the lump that formed deep within her larynx. Every nerve in her body felt raw, stripped of the protective layer of epidermis that kept them from feeling pain. Blinking back the wetness that threatened to spill forth from her eyes, she crossed back to where Sinclair stood beside the speakerphone. As she reached him, she noticed him put a small radio up against his lips. She could just make out the softly mouthed, "GO!" as it was whispered into the handset.

The order to storm the building had been given, she could only now pray that the HRT team were as good as they boasted. No matter how good they were it would be a tall mountain to climb. Once the building's doors blew the criminals would know that the cavalry had arrived and would automatically go onto the defensive. In his already vulnerable position on the floor, Mulder would be the first of the new casualties.

_Hail Mary, full of grace..._

"Agent Scully, did you know that Agent Mulder carries an envelope stashed behind his badge addressed to you?"

Scully was broken from her prayer by the sound of the voice on the phoneline. An envelope? "It looks to be one of those, 'only to be opened in the event...' type envelopes to me." The voice continued amusedly, "Shall we see what's inside?"

"NO! Don't do that!" Mulder's hoarse voice echoed in the small room only to be followed by the sound of something hard connecting with his body. A muffled groan resonated down the line causing Scully to wince in shared pain.

"C'mon... C'mon..." Sinclair's voice whispered beside her, "Blow those damn doors."

The sound of something tearing brought Scully's eyes up sharply to stare at the speakerphone. That bastard was opening Mulder's letter to her. His last thoughts and wishes would soon be aired for everyone around them both to hear.

She knew he didn't want that. The sound of his protesting voice had told her so in no uncertain terms. She didn't want it either. Anything he had to tell her after his death was meant to be private and personal, not to be blurted out in front of complete strangers.

_Oh God... I can't stand thi_s_. What right does that bastard have to invade _our_ privacy?_

More rustling sounded down the line as the paper was taken out of the envelope. Scully's vision blurred as a bout of dizziness engulfed her, her world once more tilting at an acute angle. Her heart pounded erratically inside her chest, threatening to explode from its cavity. Hands twitched and shook with the force of the adrenaline rush coursing through her veins. "Oh man..." The voice stated down the phoneline. There was another brief silence before the gunman's hard voice echoed down the line once more, "Oh man... Agent Scully, have you _ever_ got to hear this."

"Please..." Mulder's voice implored, "Don't do this to her!"

Before she realised what she was doing, Scully's hand had wrapped around the cellphone and dragged it out of its makeshift cradle, pausing only slightly before bringing it up to her ear. She might not have been able to stop the man on the other end from broadcasting her partner's innermost thoughts and feelings, but she could strive to save Mulder what little dignity she could, by narrowing down the audience in the command center.

"'_Scully, my strong, loyal Scully. As I write this, I pray for but a mere drop of the strength that you posses within your body.'"_

Scully's eyes closed as she clutched the tiny cellphone to her ear, straining to hear Mulder's soft voice through the harsh, vulgar tones of the man determined to end his life.

"'_As I write this, I pray for but a mere drop of the strength that you posses within your body."' Mulder shuddered as the man glanced from the letter to him and back again. He tried to concentrate on a possible plan of action, to block out the words he'd once written in love and now hated to hear read aloud. Inexorably, the man continued, his halting stutter marring the beauty behind the written words. '"I know that only in death can I finally muster the courage to speak the words that need to be spoken. Words that were forever perched upon my lips, waiting for a moment, a time when they could be uttered in peace... without the fear of repercussion or repris... '"_

Whatever came next became lost in the cacophony of sound that suddenly echoed down the line. Scully yanked the phone away from her ear as the deafening roar pulsed across the airwaves.

The assault team's first explosive charge detonated, blowing open the glass fronted doors to the bank. Debris and dust billowed into the building.

"What the fu–"

The sound of the gunman's disembodied voice sounded startled as it squawked in the palm of Scully's hand. She lifted the phone back to her ear, trying to make out how the operation was progressing, praying that they would rescue her partner in time. Two of the monitors in the command center lit up brightly as the first of the flashbang grenades exploded. The pictures on the screen shuddered and shook with the force of the explosion, mirroring the disorientation that the grenades perpetuated upon gunman and hostage alike.

"FBI DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" The brusque, authoritative sounds of the agent could be heard faintly as the team approached the group. Scully could only hope and pray that the flashbangs had done enough to knock the gunmen off guard. To give the team the precious time they needed to reach the hostages.

To reach Mulder.

"I SAID... DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" The authoritative voice sounded a little tense now, as though he had come upon something unexpected in his gameplan.

"Guess you and Agent Mulder just ran out of time." The gunman's hard voice stated coldly down the line, "Say goodbye to Elliot Ness, Scully."

"No!!" Scully screamed, but the line went ominously dead. Nanoseconds ticked away. With each one a funeral knell rang out inside the mind of the diminutive female agent. She could feel each and every eye in the command center settle upon her back, boring into her body with the intensity of a laserbeam. Her hands began to shake upon the small cellphone, her palms becoming slick with perspiration.

_Be alive! Be alive! Be alive!_ Her mind chanted over and over.

A thin crackle was heard over the SAC's short wave radio, followed by more static.

"_Clear!"_ The first team member called in.

"_Clear!"_ The second called.

"_CONTROL... ALL SECTIONS REPORT CLEAR. ALL TARGETS HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT. I REPEAT ALL TARGETS HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT."_

A whoop of joy went out around the command center as the team members congratulated themselves with a job well done. Fists pumped the air, hands slapped backs as the knowledge sunk in. This would go down in their books as a good result.

"_Ah! Shit!"_ The spotter's radio crackled into life, the sniper team had almost been forgotten during the tension of the takedown._ "There's a hostage down. I repeat there's a hostage down. It looks like that son-of-a-bitch wasted him."_

The words reverberated across Scully's mind, echoing back and forth until they merged and became one long, incomprehensible word. She was frozen to the spot, a living, breathing statue in the middle of the command center. Eyes wide and unbelieving stared with terror at the cellphone in her hand, willing it to ring. Wanting to hear his voice softly telling her that everything was okay.

That it was over and that he was safe.

_It looks like the son-of-a-bitch wasted him._

Mulder. They were talking about Mulder. He was supposed to come out alive, like he always did, with a cocky smile and a quick fire quip upon his lips. "Hey Scully, I takes a licking, but I keeps on ticking."

_No. No. No. No._ Her mind echoed. _This can't be happening. This can't be true. Please God... don't let this be true._

"_Control... We have confirmed fatalities inside the bank. Three targets and one Caucasian male. We're gonna need ambulances."_

Dana Scully spun around, forcing her small body through the sea of figures moving chaotically around the command center. She pushed and shoved at the bodies in front of her until she made it to the doorway. Toward the beckoning twilight outside. She dashed across the street toward the bank, nothing registering inside her mind expect the overwhelming need to see him. To feel him. To touch him. To see for herself if he was really, truly dead.

"MULDER!!"


	3. Chapter 3

Mercantile Credit Bank

Gateway Plaza Complex

Loudoun County, Virginia

4:35 PM

Blood. There was blood everywhere, it seemed. Staining the marble floor of the bank, it looked like some macabre mosaic left by a savage people. Hostages lay huddled against the floor, watching every move the gunman made as he furiously paced. Here and there a footprint tracked the blood away from it's source. Some clear, some showing evidence of having caused the object of their making to slip in the slick, oily substance.

In the space of a few minutes Mulder's entire world had exploded around him. One minute he was depositing a check, and the next he was on the floor with a lunatic waving a gun near him.

What the hell had happened?

What had started out as a normal 'Mulder-you're-nuts' disagreement had quickly turned almost bitter. Whatever was bothering the two of them needed to be sorted out, and Mulder knew it wouldn't happen while they were still hot. So he'd yanked the car over to the curb and headed into the first bank building he could find. They needed a break from each other, and he really did have a pay check to deposit.

He loved his partner, but _sometimes_, he just wanted to shake her! Lying on the floor, listening to the fading echos of gunshots, Mulder replayed the last few minutes in his mind. He'd mumbled an apology absently to an old lady he'd bumped into on his way in, and stood quietly at the teller's deposit window, waiting for the woman to finish her notes from the previous transaction.

He was so lost in his thoughts that it took a minute to register the sudden disquiet in the echoing room. Glancing at the cashier's face, he froze, then followed her glance to the man standing a few windows down. He was well over six feet tall and skinny as a beanpole. His long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, giving his gaunt facial features a skeletal appearance. Dressed in rumpled, well worn clothing, he looked decidedly out of place amongst the tailored business suits and smart casual clothes of the other customers in the busy bank. Mulder noted the tension in the cashier's stance and watched as she began to slide a hand down towards the panic button hidden under the counter. Trying to catch her eye, he shook his head slightly.

Noticing the movement, the dishevelled man suddenly erupted with an escalating shout, "I said NOBODY MOVE!!"

The sharp crack of the gunshot startled everyone. Mulder saw the cashier's shoulder explode in a crimson spray of blood and bone. He hit the floor, ears ringing, trying to listen for sounds of life on the other side of the counter. A faint groan and muttered reassurances from her co-workers told him she was alive - for now at least. Suddenly there were shots coming from every corner of the room. One of the gunmen took out the old security guard in the corner, another stood on a small table firing shots into the air.

In the noise and confusion it was hard to figure out just who was in charge, just who was responsible for the carnage in the room. Mulder knew that the instant the shots were fired somebody outside, maybe even Scully, had activated the local EMS teams. Glancing carefully around, trying not to attract anyone's attention, Mulder slowly eased his coat open. If he could just get to his weapon...

"HEY!! I said _DON'T MOVE!!_"

Mulder winced and ducked his head, certain that the gunman was talking to him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the man's approach, his dirty boots tracking blood with his every step. Startled when the man moved past him, he winced in sympathy at the sound of a solid object striking flesh. He heard the groan behind him as the man who'd carelessly moved slid to the floor.

"You, with the hair. Get up!"

Mulder looked up to see the gunman pointing a weapon at his face.

"Over there with the others." He gestured to where his men were lining the other people up against the teller wall, too low for the cameras to pick up.

_These guys are good_ Mulder gingerly climbed to his feet. Walking swiftly to where the other hostages were now gathered, he stood with his back against the wall, watching the three men intently, committing their descriptions to his formidable memory.

It was obvious by the way that the blond guy was taking charge that he was the trio's leader. There was something about him, an underlying ruthlessness that manifested itself in his actions. Everything that he did was measured, self assured, as though he would go to any lengths to see the job through. He conveyed a leadership quality that practically screamed to be obeyed. He had a plan, and from what Mulder could tell, it was a good one.

His second in command was a big, burly guy. He looked like he'd been weaned on molten lead instead of milk. Muscle-bound to the point of parody he looked like a Rambo gone wrong. He perspired profusely, and had donned a Vietnam-style bandanna around his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Large hands cradled an assault rifle as though it were something he truly cherished. His trigger finger lovingly stroked the cool metal as someone would stroke a lover, but it was the feral gleam in his eyes that caught Mulder's attention.

Although he couldn't be certain, Mulder feared that it had been this man that had needlessly taken out the elderly security guard. The poor man's bullet riddled body lay in a rapidly expanding lake of blood in the far corner of the lobby. The gleam in Burly Guy's eyes was no doubt a sign of his growing anticipation at using the weapon again. To Mulder's highly trained eye, this man posed a serious threat to the welfare of the hostages. He could only hope that Blondie knew how to keep him on his leash.

The remaining gunman looked to be the complete antithesis of his buddies. He was short, stocky, and had a prematurely receding hairline. He trembled noticeably and his eyes seemed to do a continuous circuit of the room, as if he were waiting for the world to come crashing down at any second. Mulder noticed that someone, possibly Burly Guy, had given him a Glock to use. It made sense in a way. The Glock was possibly the easiest handgun to master, there wasn't much to remember, you simply pointed it and fired. If the other two members of the team hadn't been so dangerous Mulder would have considered trying to defuse the situation through this man. He was the weakest link, more likely the one to snap as the crisis continued. The type of man that he had been trained to take advantage of.

Still reviewing his options, he watched the blond leader snap up a teller's phone on the first ring. _That'll be the negotiation team. Don't fuck up, boys._ he pleaded silently. Turning his attention back to the armed men before him, he toyed briefly with the idea of trying to reason with the weakest man.

_No,_ Mulder thought, _if I am to have any success here it would be with the leader._ It didn't appear he'd have that chance, however. Blondie was becoming increasingly more aggressive and agitated as he argued with the mediator over the phone. Mulder knew the verbal road to freedom was about to come to a dead end.

He just hoped that _dead_ wouldn't become the operative word. As if to prove Mulder's thoughts right, Blondie yelled a string of obscenities down the phoneline before yanking the cord from the from the wallsocket. A moment later the handset was hurled into the far corner of the room, disintegrating with the impact.

"Who do they fucking think they are?" Blondie screamed, "I've got all the aces here... don't they think I'll use them?"

His angry roar of frustration was accompanied by a savage burst of gunfire, shredding the ceiling under which the hostages cowered. Screams of terror punctuated the noise of the weapon's discharge as the hostages clung to each other in fear of their lives. As the noise finally ebbed away pieces of plaster began to fall from the ceiling tiles to cover the small frightened group like confetti.

"You!" Blondie pointed to one of the trembling hostages. "Drag that sorry son-of-a-bitch outta here." The weapon's muzzle indicated the prone, lifeless body of the security guard that had been killed during the earlier deadly hail of bullets.

"If you're not back inside here in thirty seconds, I'll waste one of these fine-lookin' ladies!"

The hostage sprang to his feet and did as ordered. He dragged the poor grey-haired man's corpse by the arms toward the double glass doors at the front of the building. All the while Blondie kept his weapon trained upon the unfortunate soul doing the donkey work, a constant reminder of the man's own precarious hold on mortality. The trembling hostage dumped the body on the sidewalk and practically sprinted back into the bank. Mulder couldn't help but wonder where Scully was. Thank God she hadn't followed him into the bank. He figured she was probably at the command post tearing her hair out. A small smile graced his lips as he suddenly realised how unlikely that scenerio would be.

More likely she would be gearing up with the rest of the HRT assault team preparing, if necessary, to storm the building, psyching herself up to come crashing through the double glass doors like the vengeful right hand of God himself.

Hell hath no fury like a Scully scorned.

He shook those vivid thoughts away and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.

The stillness of the large room was broken only by the occasional sniffle from the crowd along the wall. Blondie and Burly Guy conversed in angry hisses in a corner while the other man stood watch over the hostages. The sound of Mulder's cell-phone chirping made him suddenly jump.

Mulder watched as Blondie approached, tilting his head to try to pinpoint the sound of the cell-phone. Stopping in front of Mulder he gestured him forward.

"What's this, buddy? Hm? The wife want you to pick something up on the way home?"

He reached into Mulder's inside pocket, Mulder trying to twist his body away so the man wouldn't encounter his holster.

"Yeah!" Blondie said into the phone. "Who? No, I'm a...friend. That's right. Who should I say is calling? Kersh?"

Mulder shuddered, just what he needed. Any second now and Kersh would say the magic word... Blondie's eyes lit up and his gaze narrowed as he looked back at Mulder.

"_Agent_ Mulder? Agent? Nope, he's unavailable!" Mulder groaned silently as the man's eyes shone with an almost manic glow. Chuckling, he grabbed Mulder by the back of the neck and pushed him forward. "Hey guys, we have another bargaining chip! This guy's an _agent_!"

Mulder tried to make the best of it. "Um, yeah, I'm an, um, insurance agent, and I, um, well, that was my boss, and..."

His head snapped sideways as Burly Guy smacked him across the face with the butt of his weapon. Hot, sharp pain lanced across his cheekbone. His right eye throbbed and began to swell, and Mulder could feel the warm, sticky blood trail down his cheek from the cut below the eye.

"Shut up pal!"

He felt the man holding him pull his hands roughly behind his back. The unmistakable feel of steel circled his wrists as the other gunman used the security guard's discarded handcuffs to secure him. The cuffs bit sharply into his skin, making him hiss against his will. Burly Guy only grinned in evil amusement at his discomfort before using the weapon to smack him across the face again.

"Hate cops," he said by way of explanation, "hate Feds even more."

"Well, that's something you share with half the police departments across the country." Mulder replied wryly, but his forced bravado only resulted in another backhand smack to his face.

Mulder swayed on his feet, pressing into the body of the third gunman as he tried to keep his balance. Burly Guy gave another evil grin before placing a meaty hand upon Mulder's shoulder and forcing him to his knees.

Blondie gave Mulder a final shove forward and stood over him menacingly, "Insurance salesman my ass, you dress too good!" He gestured for his men to hold Mulder still while he searched his pockets.

"Hmm, standard wallet, one gun, and, ahHA! One ID wallet. Let's just see here...oh looky here boys. I'd like you to meet one Fox Mulder, FBI Special Agent."

Snarling, Blondie leaned close to Mulder's face, his breath making him gag slightly.

"Fox? What the hell is that about? Your parents hate you or something?"

He looked at Mulder in digust before turning his attention back to Mulder's phone, "I'm pretty sure you guys always travel in pairs. At least you do on TV. Isn't that right Mr. FBI?" He shook his long hair out of his eyes as he tapped a few buttons on Mulder's phone. "Geez, nice suit, bad tie...hell, you're a regular Elliot Ness." Finding the combination he wanted, he hit 'send' on the phone. "Here we go. No ring on your hand, so I'd guess ole number one on the speed dial here would be el partner-o, whaddya say Mr. Ness?"

Blondie grinned as the phone was answered with a tense, _"Scully."_

The man snarled into the phone, "Scully who?" There was a definite sneer in his voice as though he were speaking to someone much lower on the evolutionary chain than himself. Mulder bit back a grin of his own as he realised that his partner would pick up on the man's belittling attitude toward her. His blatant chauvinism would only succeed in upping Scully's ire by a factor of ten.

He didn't envy being in this guys shoes when she finally came crashing through those doors. With the attitude he was displaying it was a foregone conclusion that his balls would be hers.

"Take a look at the monitor and all will be revealed." Blondie ordered, "I'm guessing you've got a shitload of fibre optic images being pumped into that tin can you're sitting in."

Mulder could hear Scully faintly. He couldn't hear her replies, but could imagine her standing in the command center, frantically getting the commander's attention. Scully. Oh God. What he wouldn't give to be arguing with her right now.

"A concerned citizen." Blondie's voice cut through Mulder's thoughts. "Listen bitch I ain't got time to play any more fucking games. Look at the monitor!"

He yanked Mulder forward, dragging him along by his shirt collar, his knees sliding along the marbled floor as smoothly as an ice puck, until they were right below one of the main bank cameras. Grabbing a chair, he stood on it and shoved Mulder's ID into the lense. He gave them a few minutes to stew, enjoying the power he held. He held all the cards now, including an ace in the hole. Not only did he have a bank full of money and hostages, but now he had one of _them_ as well. And he damn well knew _they'd_ do anything for each other.

Time to get moving. "What price do you put upon your partner's life, Agent Scully?"

Mulder's eyes closed as he listened to the man talk to his partner. What price? He knew. He knew his value to the Bureau and to his partner. He also knew just who's price tag would win in the end. He also knew that if the situation were reversed he'd negotiate and stall as long as he could. Scully's hands were tied, though, when all was said and done. He knew that, so did she. But, being Scully, she'd try to keep this bastard occupied until someone could present a viable solution.

_Oh, Scully._ He hated the position she was in. The position they were both in. For him it would end one way or another, but for her, whatever happened here would stay with her forever. If he died here she'd never forgive herself, no matter who's final decision sealed his fate. He knew he wouldn't if the situation were reversed.

"You still haven't answered my question." Pacing back and forth, Blondie asked again, "What price do _you_ put upon your partner's life?" He scowled as he listened to the woman on the other end of the line. Jesus, a woman FBI partner. No wonder the man seemed like a wuss. What kind of a weenie got a whiny woman as a partner. Growing angrier by the minute he finally exploded.

"It's that fucking simple lady. You _do_ what I say or I'll blow your fucking partner's brains all over this bank!" There was a collective gasp from the other hostages as he yanked Mulder closer to him, jabbing the muzzle of the gun against his temple. "Aw shit! I don't know why I decided to call you motherfuckers anyway."

The metal was cool against his head, sending a slight anxious tremor through his body. A detached part of him vaguely acknowledged that this was it. This was going to be the end.

"Say bye to your partner, lady..." Blondie spat into the phone.

Mulder heard Scully's faint _"No!"_ He braced himself as the man began to squeeze the trigger. After a second or two he peeked up at him in confusion, he was listening again to something on the phone.

For an eternity they were frozen in a strange tableau, the two men holding Mulder firmly by the shoulders, the gunman listening to the argument rage on the phone and Mulder, his head down and thoughts turned inward to only one person.

Scully.

And the hell she must be going through. Suddenly the man before him erupted in furious anger. Swearing and raving, he waved Mulder's badge before him, shouting into the phone. With a ferocious growl he whipped the badge across the room, stopping his tirade as he caught sight of something falling from the wallet. Mulder bit back another groan as the man picked up the envelope.

"What's this?" He grinned evilly at Mulder.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Don't–" Mulder was silenced by another blow to the face. "Shut up Ness, I don't care what you think."

Snatching the phone from the floor, the man lowered his voice, "Is Agent Scully there?"

Mulder looked up dazed. He hadn't realised that the gunman was now talking to someone else. This new knowledge now brokered a question. Where was Scully? Was she preparing to storm the building with the rest of the team? He strained his ears, trying to listen to the voice now on the other end of the line. Praying that his torment would soon be over. That the change in mediator spelled an iminent change in circumstances.

"You ran roughshod over her, huh?" Blondie's voice practically dripped sarcasm. "Well if she's still there I think she'd probably like to hear this."

Mulder's hopes plummeted to about the same level as his stomach. She was still there and that had to mean that there would be no rescue just around the corner.

"Agent Scully, did you know that Agent Mulder carries an envelope stashed behind his badge addressed to you?"

If he hadn't already been on his knees, he would have sank to them. Mulder listened as the man gleefully ripped open the envelope. Damn, he _knew_ he should have thrown the damn thing out!

"Shall we see what's inside?"

It was too much. Mulder leaped to his feet. "NO! Don't do that! Ung..." With a cry of pain, he slipped to his knees once more as Burly Guy hit him again.

With a harsh laugh, Blondie planted himself in front of Mulder, the phone tucked under his chin. "Oh man..." He shook his head as he scanned further down the page. "Oh man...Agent Scully, have you _ever_ got to hear this."

_No, please, _Mulder thought. He lifted his gaze to his captor's.

"Please... don't do this to her!" He remembered writing this to her, remembered how desperate he was to get the words down on paper before they escaped him. Now he was sorry he had. Sorry he hadn't just taken the time to say them to her privately. He didn't want her to hear them now, like this. Not in front of the world, where she couldn't hear the love in his voice, the feelings behind the words.

He listened as the words he wrote, so familiar to him, were uttered in the harsh, guttural sounds of the madman before him.

"'_Scully, my strong, loyal Scully. As I write this, I pray for but a mere drop of the strength that you posses within your body."' Mulder shuddered as the man glanced from the letter to him and back again. He tried to concentrate on a possible plan of action, to block out the words he'd once written in love and now hated to hear read aloud. Inexorably, the man continued, his halting stutter marring the beauty behind the written words. '"I know that only in death can I finally muster the courage to speak the words that need to be spoken. Words that were forever perched upon my lips, waiting for a moment, a time when they could be uttered in peace... without the fear of repercussion or repris... '"_

A sudden loud explosion caught everyone by surprise. _Of course,_ Mulder thought, _what a perfect time to hit. The leader's distracted, lulled by his own amusements. It's what I'd do._

Glass and debris were thrown into the building, hitting gunman and hostage without mercy. The room suddenly lit up like a super nova as the flashbangs tossed in by the assault team detonated. The ear- splitting thunder of the grenades added to the confusion in the echoing lobby.

Cries of, "FBI, DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!" rang out, along with the sharp sounds of gunfire. One of the gunmen holding Mulder dropped to his knees with a groan. Dropping the letter, Blondie spun furiously, waving his remaining ally to the far wall.

Mulder dove sideways, landing on another man pinned in the crossfire. A hostage like himself, they both tried to remain motionless in the confusion around them. Blondie caught sight of Mulder and his companion in the corner and grinned, madness glinting in his eyes. Ignoring the sounds and chaos around him, he stood straight and leveled his gun at Mulder.

"I SAID... DROP YOUR WEAPON!" Again, a voice rang out from the gloom.

Speaking into the phone for the last time, Blondie said, "Guess you and Agent Mulder just ran out of time." Squeezing the trigger with each word, his last words were punctuated by sharp gunfire, "Say goodbye to Elliot Ness, Scully."

The final explosion of gunfire deafened everyone in the room. Smoke, debris, shards and bullets flew everywhere, pinging off of metal objects. Shouts and cries filled the air as the innocent and guilty alike were assaulted in the rescue.

Inching carefully forward, the assault team's pointman watched the dust settle in the room. He knew he'd taken out the leader, but not before the man began firing into a corner. Hating what he was sure he was going to find, the black-clad rescuer moved forward, his feet crunching on the broken glass and shards below. _Shit. shitshitshitshit. Damn._ Glancing around the room, he got a nod from his second in command. The man held up two fingers. Nodding in response, he keyed his mike again.

"Control... We have confirmed fatalities inside the bank. Three Target's and one Caucasian male. We're gonna need ambulances."

Yanking off his hood, the rescuer knelt by the bodies before him. His rudimentary first aid skills might be enough to help the poor guy stuck below the fallen hostage. From somewhere outside, mixed with the wail of the approaching sirens, he heard an anguished cry.

"MULDER!!"


	4. Chapter 4

Mercantile Credit Bank

Gateway Plaza Complex

Loudoun County, Virginia.

5.35.P.M.

Twilight had begun to fall outside the command center, it's encroaching shadows settling over the scene like an oppressive cape. Already a fleet of ambulances were pulling up to deal with the dead and injured inside. Black clad HRT members and detectives mingled around the entrance to the building discussing the destructive handiwork of the assault team. A large gathering of interested passers-by had congregated at the end of the street, their presence countered from intruding any further by uniformed officers from the local police department.

A breathless air of expectancy settled heavily over the gathering crowd. Nervous whispers mingled with the odd command from nearby police officer's urging the crowd to keep behind the taped off area. A television news crew arrived on the scene, gaining entry to within a few feet of the building after a lengthy chat with one of the Watch Commanders. Silently the journalists set up their equipment, waiting with the rest of the interested public for the first glimpse of the rescued hostages, or bodies, which really made for a better lead-in.

Nobody in that ever growing crowd paid particular attention to the diminutive woman who raced across the street.

Scully headed toward the partly demolished bank in a daze, her body trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and trepidation. Each reluctant footstep brought her nearer to the building, closer to the truth that lay in wait inside its glass facade. Deep within the recesses of her mind a battle waged... a conflict between her strict professionalism and that of overwhelming personal grief. Personal grief was winning this particular battle hands down.

"_...wasted the hostage...wasted the hostage..."_

The spotter's words kept pace with her strides, tormenting her with their finality. A mental slideshow began to torture her further as one by one images of her fallen partner filled her mind's eye. Every grisly crime scene she'd ever investigated replayed itself, Mulder's face superimposed grotesquely over that of the original victim's. Each disturbing deathscene became more ghastly than the last, complete with every possible scenario of Mulder's last earthly moments.

Bullets ripping through his upper body as he became a victim of the vicious crossfire between assault team and criminal. A single close range shot to the head, splitting skull, shredding sinew and cerebrum as it embedded itself deep within the confines of his perfect brain. His lifeless hazel eyes staring out in stony silence from his shattered and broken body. His dark brown hair matted with blood, tiny particles of brain matter sticking to the once fine strands.

Her stomach lurched and bile surged into the back of her throat, burning the tender tissue of her oesophagus. She clamped an unsteady hand over her mouth, arresting its further progress and angrily forced those thoughts from her mind.

As she neared the doorway to the bank she could see the full extent of the damage inflicted upon the building. What was left of the two glass-fronted doors hung precariously from twisted metal hinges. They swayed in the light breeze blowing down the exposed street, threatening to collapse completely with the merest brush of a hand. Shattered glass lay in sharp and glittering fragments on the sidewalk, debris and yet more glass lay strewn across the bank's interior.

To gain entrance, she had to dodge her way through the still milling crowd of assault team members and detectives. Paramedics and ambulance personnel stood in a tight group to one side, waiting the go ahead to recover the dead and injured from the building. They reminded her of a flock of circling vultures waiting to pick at the bones of their prey. On one level, she knew that everyone here was only doing their job, but in her grief-stricken state the price paid for their intervention was too high.

Way too high.

Suddenly she became increasingly frustrated with the gawker's macabre need to mingle outside the building. Elbowing her way past them, she ignored their rude comments and continued forcing her way through.

A uniformed police officer considered blocking her entrance, but one look at the grim face and the ID she shoved in his face changed his mind. She passed over the threshold into the bank's interior, her feet crunching upon the shards of glass and debris, her eyes trying to make sense of the chaos around her.

Sounds of cursing, crying and complaining came from the liberated hostages as they still huddled in a group upon the floor, almost too stunned to move yet. Assault team members, weapons slung over their shoulders, hovered over them protectively. More Police and FBI agents were turning up by the second to begin the painstaking task of getting coherent statements from all concerned, a task that Scully didn't envy them. The acrid smell of cordite hung heavy in the air, layered with the metallic stench of blood and death. Each definitive aroma assaulted Scully's senses, pulling her with magnetic force toward the scene of the carnage.

"You can't go in there, ma'am."

A bulky, black-clad figure filled her sight, blocking her view of the huddled hostages. Her eyes slid up his body to lock onto his earnest gaze.

"I'm Agent Scully, I'm with the Bureau."

She flipped open her ID automatically, the HRT agent hesitated briefly before stepping to one side. Scully nodded her thanks and brushed past him. The reek of spilt blood and other more involuntary movements increased as she made the last few hesitant steps toward the four covered bodies on the floor. Liquid pools of crimson spread outward from each still figure, a river of life now turned to one of death. Each body was covered, but it was easy for her to identify which one belonged to her partner. His was the only one covered from head to waist by a HRT windbreaker. Beside it, splattered with the blood of two men, lay Mulder's FBI Identification wallet. It was open, showing the picture that she had seen earlier, only now it was stained a deep, foreboding red.

Even if all that hadn't been evident, his charcoal grey suitpants and highly polished leather shoes would have been enough of a clue. Scully began to shake, the tremors taking over her body as her eyes took in the fact that her partner lay before her, broken and still. Tears sprang up, distorting the image further, almost softening its harshness. A small, involuntary sob broke free, wrenched from her very soul.

For the third time that day her world tilted lopsidedly on its axis. Step by painful step she moved forward, fist clenched tightly to her mouth, as if to hold back any more sounds that might break free. Another trembling step forward, she shook her head, unable to accept the evidence of her senses. Her eyes swept over him, _needing_ to find something - anything - that would refute the all-too-real body before her. _Too late,_ she thought, _You're too late for him._

Around her she could dimly hear the sounds of the recovery teams as they began their cleanup. In the distance she faintly registered the sound of a receding ambulance, and another drawing closer.

As she knelt down to pull the jacket back from his face, a gentle cough from behind caught her attention. Looking up, she caught the sorrowful gaze of the young man who's jacket covered her partner's body.

"Ma'am?" He flinched at the raw pain coming from the blue eyes of the stricken woman in front of him, "I think this belongs to you."

In his hands he held the note the gunman had been reading when all hell had broken loose. That last note, crumpled and spattered with blood. With a surprisingly steady hand Scully reached up and pulled the note from his grasp.

"Thank you," she whispered softly as he turned and left her alone. _Alone._ The word echoed in her mind bringing with it an overpowering feeling of intense loneliness and heartache, _Oh my God, Mulder, I'm alone._

Her iron clad resolve dissolved entirely under the weight of those last thoughts. No longer able to keep the tears at bay she let them fall, feeling the cathartic release of her grief combine with the saline wetness trickling down her face. A trembling hand once more reached out toward the jacket lying over his face. Her fingers curled around the soft material of the windbreaker's collar as she mentally braced herself. She drew back the jacket and gazed down into the terrified, glazed eyes of...

A stranger.

For a moment, nothing registered. The room seemed frozen, the only sound was the harshness of her breathing. Then time resumed, the room began to brighten. Scully toppled forward, partly in relief, and partly from the need to confirm. Her latex-covered hand landed on the blood-soaked chest before her. Another detail penetrated her shocked haze; _wrong tie, this one matches the suit._

Suddenly everything came back into extreme sharpness. _It's not him!_ Her mind screamed this, over and over. For now there was no thought of the family this poor Armani-clad man had left behind. Now there was only the gibbering relief that the body before her was NOT Mulder.

Glancing at the other men laid out nearby, she jumped to her feet, tearing off the bloodied glove. Scanning the room, she spotted the young man who'd handed her Mulder's note. Adrenaline pumping, Scully took a step away from the body–_It's not HIM!!_–she'd grieved over. She bent and gently repositioned the HRT jacket over the corpse, murmuring a quick prayer for his soul.

Spotting the HRT man again, she gingerly made her way across the still-slippery floor. Grabbing his arm, she spun him around to face her.

"Where is he?" she demanded. "Where's Agent Mulder?"

The FBI agent taking the statement turned toward her, a ready rebuke perched upon his lips. However, he quickly changed his mind when he saw the look in her eyes. He knew Agent Scully, and knew what had gone down here. Closing his notebook, he took a couple of steps to one side and gave the female agent the space she needed.

Oblivious to the courtesy she'd just been given, Scully rounded on the young man in front of her. "I need to know where they've taken him? I need to know if he's all right?"

With a surprised glance at the bodies behind her, he nodded and keyed his mike, asking questions Scully only barely registered. Running a hand through her hair, she forced herself to be still, to not scream at the top of her lungs, _"HE'S NOT HERE!!"_ Taking another deep breath, she focused on what the serious-faced man was saying to her.

"...yes, Sir, I'll pass that along...be advised, it appears that the man they're transporting is a federal agent...yes, Sir..."

Taking Scully by the arm, he bullied his way through the still-gathering crowd near the doors. Bodyblocking for the small agent, he told her what he knew.

"They're taking all the injured to St Jude's. If he's not around here, then that'll be your best place to look."

"Do you know how badly he was injured?"

He shook his head no. "Sorry ma'am, but I arrived on the scene after the takedown."

He nodded to one of the agents that had stopped Scully before. "One of the guys gave me the note when he recognised the name from your ID. He said he found it next to the body over there. I thought..." He trailed off leaving the rest unsaid.

"It's okay, really." Scully surprised them both by jumping up and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much for your help."

The HRT man watched as she pushed her way through the edges of the crowd to the car she and Mulder'd left so many hours before. He grimaced as she gunned the engine, forcing the people milling around to scatter before she took off with a squeal of her tires.

_Lucky bastard,_ he thought, meaning that on several levels as he returned to the grim task of cleaning up.


	5. Chapter 5

St. Jude's Hospital

Emergency Room

Louden County, Virginia

6.45 PM

"He's arresting!" the nurse announced as the monitor beside her began its shrill buzzing.

The attending doctor shot a worried look at the still body on his emergency table. His hands, soaked with the blood of his patient, began chest compressions as he mumbled a string of curses under his breath, "There's too much damage... just how many bullets did this poor SOB take?"

Overhearing his comment, the triage nurse said, "I count nine...all of them in the upper torso..." She shook her head solemnly. "Someone sure wanted this guy dead."

"Looks like they're gonna get their wish." the doctor replied as the heart monitor continued its screeching wail. "What're his stats?"

"No heartbeat, no pulse, he's in respiratory failure and his BP is heading south in a hurry," the nurse by the monitor reported. She shook her head, exchanging a grim glance with another attendant. "I don't know doc..."

"Not on my shift..." the doctor replied determinedly, "I want a 100cc's of Epi, push it and a hundred of Adrenaline...stat. Continue bagging him."

Used to this sight nearly every day, the ER staff continued their tasks, but this time with an edge. This man was a member of the team, one of the good guys. That didn't mean they wouldn't do their best for just an ordinary 'joe', but each team member new that the loss of this man would chalk another one up for the bad guys, something they were determined not to have happen.

"He's still flatlining..." the nurse informed them, "The meds aren't working."

"How long has he been down?" the doctor asked, his eyes briefly glancing at the wall clock above him.

"Five minutes..."

"Get the paddles and charge them to 250!"

"Charged." "Clear!" the doctor yelled, placing the paddles on the patient's chest. All personnel took a cautious step back, ensuring that they were not going to act as a conductor for the burst of electricity that would soon leave the defibrillator pads.

With a quick glance at his staff, the doctor pressed the button on the handles and the patient beneath him arched skyward.

"Still nothing."

"Dammmit." the doctor whispered softly, "Com'on stay with us buddy...stay with us!" He placed the paddles on the blood stained chest once more, "300!"

"Charging."

"Clear!" "Still nothing... he's been down for nearly ten minutes now," the young nurse solemnly declared. Asking the question every doctor hates to hear, she said, "You calling it?"

"Don't you believe in miracles?" the doctor asked her.

"Not since I started working in this place." the nurse replied truthfully as she continued to constrict the oxygen bag in her hands. "This is like working in hell and we all know the devil doesn't do miracles."

"Still no response." The resident monitoring vitals reported, "pupils fixed and dilated...we've lost him."

The doctor put down the paddles and stared at the broken man before him, "Time of death..." He glanced back at the wall clock, "six-fifty five P.M." He shook his head sadly as he stripped away his bloodied gloves and threw them into the receptacle in the corner of the room.

It was never an easy thing to lose a patient, but today he felt as if he had lost more than that. You always tried that little harder to save the law enforcement people. They were in the front line, trying to survive the trenches, trying to make the world just that little bit safer for everyone.

"This shouldn't happen to the _good_ guys." The doctor said, "In the movies they always win."

He stared once more at the body lying on the table. A nurse was in the process of covering it with a white hospital sheet. Already the other members of the team were dispersing, going onto their next challenge, their next chance to save a life, hoping maybe to make up for the battle they had just lost.

The doctor made his way toward the connecting door and the flurry of activity he could already see taking place inside. As he pushed open the door he turned back to the solitary nurse left in the room, "Is there anyone we should contact...any relatives...friends?"

The nurse shook her head, "Not that we know of, but I understand that his partner is on her way in."

"Let me know when she gets here. I'd like to be the one to tell her the news."

The nurse nodded slightly and finished up her work. The doctor pushed open the connecting doors and walked through them, leaving behind him the feeling of despair as he tried to focus on his new casualty.

"What have you got for me?"

"White male, late thirties, gunshot wounds to the head and shoulder. He was unconscious enroute, but it looks like he's starting to come out of it. He's fighting the oxygen mask a little."

"Okay people, let's try and save this one." The doctor announced as he went to work on this latest patient.


	6. Chapter 6

St. Jude's Hospital

Emergency Room

Louden County, Virginia

7.25 PM

Grateful that she still remembered the entry code on the ER doors, Scully slipped through the entrance normally used by the medics and EMT's. _The hell with protocol, I'll deal with bruised ego's later._ she thought.

Glancing quickly around, she headed toward the area with the most activity, only to be stopped by a tall nurse. He resisted her best 'Scullyglare' and asked where she was headed.

"A man was brought in here just a few minutes ago. He was involved in a bank robbery...I want to see him..._now!_" To back up her demand, she flipped open her ID, showing it to the nurse.

Taking her by the elbow, the big nurse pulled Scully to his computer terminal.

"Name..." the nurse asked.

"Mulder, Fox William." Scully supplied, frustrated at the delay, but understanding the man was doing his job.

Shaking his head, he told her, "Sorry, I don't see the name. Are you sure he was brought in here?"

"Yes dammit!" She started to turn away from the nurse, "Look, I'm a doctor, I'm just going to look in..." She was suddenly surprised to find that she couldn't move. The nurse had a solid grip on her shoulder.

"Look, ma'am, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you can't do that. It's hospital policy that law enforcement officers have to wait until treatment has ceased before talking to a suspect..."

Scully turned back toward the towering hulk, leaning her small frame across the counter. Unconcealed anger clouded her deep blue eyes as she set about correcting the mistaken nurse, "He's _not_ a suspect, he's my _partner._" The nurse nodded apologetically, "I'm sorry... but I still can't..."

"Never mind. Can you at least give me an update?" Scully asked, trying not to scream in frustration.

"You'll have to wait until I can get a doctor to speak with you."

"Look..." Scully's patience finally snapped, "I've spent the longest half hour in _history_ not knowing whether my partner is alive or dead and you're telling me I can't see him?"

"It's hospital poli..." The nurse reiterated.

"I don't give a _shit_ about policy... All I'm asking is..."

"Agent Scully?" A voice interrupted her tirade and she spun about, zeroing in on her new target.

The tall physician introduced himself, "I'm Doctor Porter. I was told to expect you."

Scully now focused her entire attention on the young doctor and his penetrating sad eyes. What she saw there filled her with a sense of dread.

_Oh God No!_" she thought to herself, "_He's going to tell me Mulder's dead._ She'd seen that look before, she'd even worn it a few times herself during her rotation in the emergency room. It was the closed and sorrowful countenance of a person filled with deep regret.

She swallowed down her encroaching fear and took a steadying breath, waiting for the words that she dreaded more than anything else in the world.

"If you'll follow me..." Scully needed no further urging, she was on the doctor's heels as he led the way to an exam room. "We tried..." The doctor began, but the sound of a curtain being pulled aside broke his train of thought, his eyes shifted to the cubicle behind Scully just as a distraught young woman emerged from it.

Scully looked over her shoulder when she heard the anguished sounding sobs. She noticed that the young woman was wearing the pressed blue uniform of the local police department. Commendation medals adorned the front of her tunic, but it was the utter desolation in her eyes that drew Scully's attention away from her own thoughts of despair. She watched quietly as the woman was lead away by other members of her department.

"She just lost her partner." Dr. Porter said as a way of explanation, "He tried to assist a pregnant woman who was being harassed by a bunch of street kids. One of the bastards pulled out a handgun and emptied the clip into him." He nodded toward the retreating woman, "Apparently they'd been partners for a little over five years...he was godfather to one of her children."

Steeling herself, she held up a hand to stop the doctor before he continued his explanation, "Please," she said, her throat tight, her blue eyes filling with tears she was afraid to let fall. "Please, I _need_ to see my partner. Now."

_I need time alone with him, before they come and take him away._

Nodding in understanding, and grateful that this time, at least he could give some _good_ news, he continued. "You're partner's in x-ray at the moment, he should be back any minute now. He'd lost quite a bit of blood..." His voice faded out as Scully's brain locked on the doctor's first words.

_He's in x-ray, x-ray, x-ray... _Dead men didn't go to x-ray, _live_ men did!

Grabbing the doctor's arm she shouted, "X-RAY?!"

"Well yes, x-ray. As I was saying..." Cut off by Scully's abrupt, sparkling smile, he grabbed her arm to steady her as she wobbled a bit before him.

Spinning out of his grasp, Scully scanned the hallway frantically, looking at the telltale signs at each corner. Spotting the one she wanted, she sprinted down the hall, leaving the stunned doctor in her wake.

Pounding down the hall, she silently read off the names of the rooms as she passed them, _Lab... Records... Fileroom... Ultrasound... Pathology... X-ray!_

"Bingo!" Scully muttered to herself as she slid to a stop outside the room. The red light above the door was on, indicating that they weren't quite finished inside. Pacing impatiently up and down the hallway, she jammed her still-

shaking hands into her pockets, her left hand finding the note the gunman had been reading when all hell had broken loose.

Her fingers unsteady, she pulled the crumpled, bloodstained letter out. A quiet groan stopped her from reading it. Glancing up, she watched as an orderly maneuvered Mulder's gurney out of the small x-ray room.

God, she thought she'd lost him. Thought that she'd never see him alive on this earth again. Suppressed emotions waged a battle inside her, tears began to well up in her eyes as she took in the sight of him before her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and took a hesitant step toward him, letting him see the watery relief in her eyes.

Mulder's eyes met hers, and his pain-filled gaze softened at the fear still evident in hers. His stoic Scully, her emotions normally so carefully hidden behind a well-

maintained wall, was standing before him with tears threatening to fall down her cheeks.

Hers was the last face he'd seen, conjured up in his mind and held there as a talisman while that madman had opened fire in the chaos of the 'rescue.' Her face, serene and beautiful, so capable of conveying the subtlest emotion with just the twitch of an eyebrow, was even more stunning to him now, with everything he'd ever wanted to see written there not just for him, but the world to read.

Mulder cleared his throat, "Hey G-woman," he said softly, "what I'd tell you... I takes a licking, but I keeps on ticking."

He watched in silence as his light-hearted comment released that last, tenuous hold she had on her emotions and the tears she'd been holding onto so tightly began to cascade down her face.

Mulder could only look on as she took a few stumbling steps toward him, her bottom lip quivering uncontrollably as her hand found his, grasping it so tightly that it almost hurt. She laced her small fingers through his, re-connecting them, grounding them in the reality of this moment. A moment she'd been certain she'd never have again.

Scully's eyes never left Mulder's as she kept pace with the gurney the orderly was pushing back into the ER. Locked between their joined hands was the blood-stained letter, forgotten for the moment, but not for long.


	7. Chapter 7

St Jude's Hospital

Louden County, Virginia

10.50 P.M.

The soft beeping of the monitor was mesmerising. Each little peak that registered Mulder's heartbeat became hypnotic. She couldn't look away, daren't glance at his sleeping form for fear that he might still slip quietly from her tenuous grasp.

She knew the thought to be an irrational one, brought on by fatigue and a day of high octane tension, but she couldn't help herself, she had to keep scrutinising the monitor. Standing sentinel over her weakened partner in a way that had been denied her earlier.

_He's safe... injured... bruised and beaten... but safe._ Her mind informed her, trying to comfort that part of her psyche that still refused to believe the evidence of her eyes. A soft groan broke through her thoughts and for a brief moment she dared to look away from the screen. Mulder was moving fitfully in the bed, sweat beading his face, eyes dancing back and forth under closed eyelids. He grimaced in pain as he unconsciously moved his injured arm in his sleep. Before she had even realised she was doing it, Scully's hand had reached out. Her small fingers running up and down his forearm, smoothing over the skin, avoiding the place where the IV had been inserted, soothing her partner's mind along with his injured body.

He stilled almost immediately, his body relaxing under her comforting touch. His eyes abandoned their manic dance. His breathing evened out and he slipped into a more peaceful slumber.

Scully's gaze returned once more to the monitor. Her vigil resuming, searching for the tiniest sign that he might be in trouble. But the monitor continued its steady rhythm undisturbed. Fifteen minutes passed before she finally allowed herself the luxury of closing her eyes. They felt dry and gritty beneath their lids, a sure sign of her overwhelming tiredness. _I'll rest just for a moment._ She told herself, _Just for a few minutes. To recoup._

Another soft groan filled the silent room and all thoughts of her own rest evaporated as her eyes snapped open. She searched the various monitors, sweeping across the readouts with anxious eyes, checking his vitals.

They remained stable. _More stable,_ she chastised herself, _than the woman monitoring them._

A broken sob shifted her attention back to the bed and her partner. His face was a twisted mask of pain, his right fist clenched so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. His lips were pulled back in a grimace, and beads of sweat once more dotted his skin.

Scully leaned forward until her lips were against his ear, "Mulder, do you want me to increase your medication?" She moved back in her seat, awaiting his answer. Her hand hovered near the valve on the IV tree that would increase his intake of Demerol.

She watched as he fought his way back to consciousness slowly, his body fidgeting inside the constraining covers. His eyes fluttered briefly, holding on to the last vestige of sleep before carefully opening.

"Christ!" He moaned, pulling his good hand across his eyes in a vain attempt to shield them from the intrusive light. His face visibly paled, the blood seemingly leeching out and being replaced by a stony grey pallor. He retched, abruptly turning away from Scully's gaze, searching for some unseen object.

"Easy." Scully's voice was soft, a touch of concealed concern tarnishing its edges, "Take it nice and easy. You've been through the wringer." She helped him into a seated position, placing a cardboard bowl before him. The movement and dizziness that followed was all it took for him to put it to good use.

When he was finished, she wordlessly handed him a drink so he could rinse his mouth, then she took the bowl away, leaving him briefly while she went in search of a sluice room. When she returned Mulder was lying back down. He looked worn out, his vomiting session having taken the last of his reserves of energy.

Scully hurried to his bedside, "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like the entire Bronco's defense just sacked me." he replied, grimacing slightly as a sharp pain lanced through his arm. "Did you say something about increasing my medication?"

"Just a second." She took a step to the side, checking the IV bag that hung from the post next to his bed. Moving her hand toward the transparent line, she adjusted the valve slightly, allowing more of the pain relief to enter his system. It had an immediate effect, Mulder's face relaxed visibly.

Ever the professional physician, Scully wrapped her fingers around his wrist, digging them into his flesh, feeling for the pulse that resided there. Her other hand brushed his forehead, looking for signs of fever.

"I'm feeling _much_ better." he informed her.

She ignored him, preferring to check for herself. She concentrated upon her task, mentally counting his pulse rate as she observed his reactions. There was no outward sign of a fever, his pulse was regular, and his pupils seemed reactive to the light. All in all they were good signs, although his earlier vomiting would remain a cause for concern, but even that seemed on par for the mild concussion he had suffered. Confident of her own diagnosis, she let out the breath she'd been holding. Relief surged through her, washing away the last of the adrenaline that had been keeping her body functioning. The room began to spin wildly, she teetered on wobbly legs that now refused to hold her upright, thrusting out a hand she held onto the side of the bed until her balance returned.

Her movements had not been lost on Mulder, who was now watching her with concern written all over his battered face. All she needed was for a few moments rest, time to put her blitzed defences back into place.

As though reading her thoughts Mulder patted the mattress beside him, "Looks like you could do with taking a load off partner."

A weary smile crossed Scully's lips as she took the proffered seat, balancing herself precariously upon the bed, one foot braced on the floor in order to keep her balance. She adjusted herself slightly so that she could face him.

"I just need a minute."

It was a typical answer, one that she knew he had become intimately familiar with over the years. He would know better than to challenge her, to call her on this unaccustomed show of weakness. It was one of many unspoken rules in their partnership. He gazed at her for a while, his hazel eyes determinedly seeking out her blue ones. Then he nodded imperceptibly and she knew that he would play his part. Gently he placed his good hand over hers, softly squeezing her fingers underneath.

"Take all the time you need, Scully. I'm not going anywhere."

Their eyes clashed again, a multitude of questions and answers flowing between them. They both knew how close it had been, how close Mulder had come to spending this night in the morgue. Scully blinked away the encroaching tears and looked away, embarrassed that she may have let him see too much.

"So..." It was obvious from the tone of that one word that Mulder had decided to change the subject, "How soon can I blow this joint?"

"A few days."

She noticed him wrinkle up his nose at that remark. The one thing he hated more than visiting someone in the hospital was actually having to stay in one. She tried to explain his forced incarceration. "You lost a lot of blood, Mulder." Her voice sounded thick, heavy still with emotion. She took a moment to clear it before continuing. "You took a couple of bullets. The one to the shoulder did some minor damage to the ligaments. The doctors want to make sure that it's healing properly before they release you and you're gonna need a little physical therapy to help your range of motion."

He nodded solemnly, his good hand rising up to touch his wounded shoulder. "But... it will heal?"

"In time." Scully replied. "But you mustn't push it, Mulder. Let it take the time it takes."

He nodded again at her slight admonishment. She knew him well enough to know that he would try to circumvent the convalescence time so that he could get back to work as quickly as possible. She leaned forward a little, her small hand travelling toward his forehead and the thick gauze that covered part of its surface. "The second bullet hit you here." Her fingers brushed tenderly against the surface of the gauze, tracing the unseen path of the bullet that had so nearly ended his life. Her eyes pooled with more unshed tears, these ones threatening to spill forth at any moment. "That's gonna leave a nasty scar you know."

Mulder smiled lightly, trying to ease the pain he could see lurking in his partner's worried gaze. "It'll add character to my roguish reputation." His smile grew wider. "Chicks go for the wounded hero look." He waggled his eyebrows at her in an attempt at a friendly leer, but winced when the movement tugged at his stitches. "Ow!"

"Serves you right." Scully replied trying to match his smile, but it failed to reach her eyes, that one place she knew Mulder took solace in. Her fingers began their travels once more, slipping across his face, skirting around the deep blue/black bruise that adorned his cheek where he had been pistol whipped.

Mulder sat statue-like beneath her touch and she silently thanked him. He knew how important it was for her to take her time to re-connect with him, to prove to herself the reality of his presence. She had allowed him to do the same whenever their situations had been reversed.

She moved on, fingers sliding further down his face, encountering his evening beard on route toward his mouth. The stubble rasped against her nails, sounding much louder in the quiet hospital room than it really was. Mulder's eyes closed, and he nuzzled his face against the palm of her hand as she continued her journey. She halted at his mouth, outlining the shape of his lips, stopping at the jagged cut that split his full bottom lip.

"God. They really did a number on you..." She tried to fight the sob that welled up inside her, but found she couldn't. It broke free of her tight restraint, shattering the stillness in the room.

Mulder's eyes snapped open, searching her face, trapping her in the snare of his intense gaze. He began to form a question, but Scully headed him off, shaking her head adamantly from side to side.

"I'll heal, Scully," he said soothingly, trying to reassure her that the blemishes on his face and body would one day disappear. "I always do."

_Yeah, but after today, I don't think _I_ ever will. Not after coming so damn close to losing you._

She couldn't voice those words, not without muddying the waters further in their already precarious relationship. So for Mulder's benefit she nodded in agreement with him. He cupped her chin in his good hand and ran an unsteady finger across her lower lip. It trembled under his featherlight touch.

"Hey..." he tilted her face upward to meet with his gaze. "you okay?"

She nodded slightly. "I'm fine, Mulder." Seeing his eyes narrow at her familiar fob off, she rushed to placate him. "Really, it's just been one bitch of a day."

He studied her for an uncomfortable moment before letting her off the hook. "You should go home, Scully. You look wiped out."

"I will...soon. I just wanted to be here when you woke up." She shifted a little uneasily on the bed. "I have something I need to give you."

"Really?" The innuendo in his tone was not lost on her and his eyebrows were beginning their march toward his hairline again. The movement pulled at his stitches. The grimace would have been comical if it hadn't looked so painful.

Scully fished around in her pocket, finally pulling out the bloodied letter now wrapped inside an evidence bag. "I think this belongs to you." If the grimace on his face had been comical, the look of shock and fear now in his eyes was a complete contrast.

His fingers twitched as they slowly made their way toward the stained letter. He was acting as though the slightest contact with the parchment would result in mortal harm. Tentatively he took the plastic wrapped letter from her grasp, turning it over and over between his shaky digits. He seemed to take a fortifying breath before asking the question that Scully knew was coming.

"Did you read it?"

"No." Her whispered reply could be barely heard within the confines of the small room. "No, I didn't."

Mulder's face registered relief, only quickly dissolve into confusion and then to disappointment. He frowned, his gaze going back to the letter and then to his partner.

"Why not? It was addressed to you."

"I think the answer to that question is pretty obvious." Scully said, hoping that her meaning would sink in, obviously from the look on her partner's face it was evident that it hadn't. She sighed. "Mulder, that letter was meant to be read only in the event of your death. Her remained silent. She rolled her eyes, why was he making this so damn difficult?

"I've got news for you partner," she announced. "Reports of your demise have been greatly exaggerated. You're alive, ergo it wasn't necessary to read the letter." She didn't let on that she had been tempted while she had waited for him to wake up, or that it was only her nervousness at the thought of its contents that had stopped her. She sat back on the bed, stretching her arms out on the mattress to brace herself.

Mulder seemed to take a moment to process everything. He scratched the side of his long nose with his index finger, a move that Scully knew well as being one of thoughtfulness.

"Even so." he said after his brief contemplation. "Weren't you curious?"

"Is there any reason I should be?" Her reply came out a little more harsh than she had intended and she immediately felt guilty.

"It was my dying declaration," Mulder responded, the wounded tone barely masked. "My last mortal words...my last thoughts and wishes..." He broke off, staring at the letter still in his hands. "...my last link with you."

"Maybe I don't want to be the beneficiary of your porn collection, Mulder. Frohike would be a more suitable..." She froze when she saw the hurt look cross his face. Her jest had completely mis-fired, harming her partner in the process. He was being serious. She thought back to the few lines of the letter she could still remember, they had been serious too.

They were about to step out upon some very shaky ground. Were they ready for it?

She took a deep breath and took that first fateful step. "What do you want from me, Mulder?"

He shook his head, unable to meet her eyes or answer her question. She took another small step forward in this emotional minefield they were entering. "Do you want me to read the letter?"

He twisted said item between his fingers, still refusing to meet her eyes. "Um...well..."

"I thought as much," Scully replied, not harshly but with resignation. "I think maybe you need to think this through."

"I have thought it through," he replied tersely. "It was all I could think about in the bank. He was reading it to you, Scully, speaking _my_ words... _my_ thoughts. He was taking words I'd written with passion and love and twisting them into some ugly version of the truth."

She sucked in a breath, her heart had began to thud like a jackhammer inside her chest, she could feel its vibrations fluttering against the fabric of the blouse she wore.

"On second thought...maybe you _should_ read it." Mulder held out the bag toward her.

"No!"

Scully's adamant reply caused him to lock gazes with her. She could see the confusion in his eyes, the beginnings of doubt rising to the surface, she slipped her fingers across his lips stalling him from saying what she knew he would say. His attempt to extricate them from an embarrassing situation.

_I made a mistake... Let's just forget it, okay?_

_Not this time, Mulder._

"It's not what you think," she whispered softly. "It's not that I don't want to read it...I do." She allowed a small smile to grace her lips. "It's just that..." She hesitated, glancing away from his intense stare, dropping her eyes down toward her lap. "It's just that after all this time. All the things we've been put through to reach this moment..." Her eyes lifted, searching out his once more. Her hand caught his much bigger one, spreading his fingers wide and slotting her own between them. "I don't want to read the words, Mulder. I want to hear you say them."

His mouth opened, his lips moved, but nothing came out. His eyes bore into hers, flashing messages loud and clear between them, but he couldn't find the voice to project them.

"I...can't..." His voice stumbled over the words. "I tried once before and you didn't believe me."

"Then try again and maybe I will." She leaned in closer. "It's only three little words, Mulder."

She looked at him, challenging him to say them out loud once more. To put his heart on his sleeve and to put his feelings on the line.

"I like you." he said nervously.

"Uh huh, not good enough, G-man."

"I..." He suddenly smiled roguishly at her. "I. Want. You."

"Now you're getting ahead of yourself." She gave him a look of mock reproach, but her eyes told him all he needed to know.

_All in good time._

"Scully..."

"Yes?"

He looked longingly into the bluest eyes he had ever seen, seeing the love shining there.

"I love you."

He waited for the roll of her eyes, the softly spoken, 'Oh brother' like before, but it didn't come. Instead she closed the distance between them, sliding her hand around his neck and gently pulled him into her embrace. They stayed that way for a long moment until Scully pulled away.

It was time to detonate the final mine that lay between them.

She swallowed, giving herself a moment to regain lost composure, to put the thoughts that were tumbling erratically inside her head into some sort of order. "I thought today was it..." Her soft voice was tremulous, the tears that she would usually be ashamed of showing teetering momentarily on the edge of the abyss. "I honestly thought it was the end." He nodded quietly, urging her to continue.

"I always thought I'd be ready for it." She could see that the tone of inevitability in her voice had rocked Mulder, although he tried to hide it from her view. "With all the times we've been here...at this point...where life and death meet." She hesitated, and ran a shaky hand through her hair, then sighed. "I guess I've always known that we're both living on borrowed time, that there would come a day when our luck would finally run out." Scully shook her head forlornly. "I thought today was that day...when I would have to let you go...the day our luck ran out." A single tear broke forth, she could feel it running slowly down her cheek. "And I found that I wasn't ready for it...that no matter how much I prepared myself...I'd _never_ be ready for it."

She looked at him intently, blue eyes boring into hazel. "I didn't want it to end like that...apart from each other. Alone." Her index finger wandering absently across his damaged lower lip. "I always hoped there would be time." Her eyes slowly wandered upward across his face, until she stared through watery tears at his beaten face. "Time to tell you that I love you."

"Scully..." Mulder's voice was tremulous and when she finally managed to blink her tears away she could see that he had shed a couple of his own. She closed the distance between them once more, watching this time as Mulder rose up from the bed slightly to meet her halfway. "I love you," she whispered as her lips descended toward his.

The cellphone in her pocket took that inopportune moment to spring into life.

"Leave it." Mulder mumbled against her mouth. "It'll only be Kersh."

Scully pulled back slightly, one eyebrow cocked curiously. "How do you know?" Mulder pushed himself further up on the bed until he was sitting more upright. "Let's just say the guy's got great timing." The phone kept up its shrill ringing, Scully sighed and thumbed it on.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully." AD Kersh's voice echoed down the line. "Would you mind telling me what the hell is–"

"Not now!" Scully snapped, switching off the cellphone and dumping it unceremoniously upon the cabinet beside Mulder's bed.

"You hung up on him." Mulder stared, wide-eyed.

"I did. We're in a hospital, Mulder, doesn't he know that cellphones interfere with delicate hospital machinery?" She grinned at him and he returned it in kind. God, she'd been around him way too long.

"By the way...I think you used one of my lines." He slid his good hand around her shoulder and pulled her toward him.

"I only hope you didn't have this in mind when you dumped me with that line." She moved slowly toward him, licking her lips seductively with the tip of her tongue. He stifled a groan. Their lips met in the softest of kisses, moving gently against each other, making a promise for the future.

Somewhere in the back of Scully's mind she could hear the faint explosion from a now very distant minefield. She knew there and then, her arms wrapped around her partner and her lips caressing his that the path ahead of them was finally clear.

End of Story.


End file.
